Last Stop

51

There is a last stop in all of us
A place our soul consents to rest
Few were the moonlit nights
That I’ve truly cared for after all

In the alphabet of stars
Time carried me until I was
Completely different
And with a fatigue of thought

I settled on dying a white death
After people were forgotten
There were still my dreams
Dreams I had held on to in spite

Of difficulties, tempests, dishonour
But memory is just a day
When somebody we cared for

Is replaced by somebody else or
The fleeting thing of hours
The turbulent street where everything blurs.

6 thoughts on “Last Stop

      • Dear Wuji,
        cancer is a scourge. I have battled it myself and lost loved ones most dearest to the beast. I pray peace and strength and healing for you, your father, and family. Victory on all fronts.
        Your treatment of death (such a painful subject) in your poem is sensitive and imaginative.
        E.D. spoke to me during my time when death was near. I shall share two poems that are most likely familiar; I hope they touch your mind and heart in fresh ways.
        “This World is not Conclusion” (501)
        “I know that He exists” (338)

      • Thanks so much, I really took solace from your comment and ED is one of the best of all time for sure. I’m glad you could relate to the material. My poetry is not always the case…

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